Month eight.

Month eight and he was honestly going a little crazy.

Sehun had known from the beginning, since the moment he’d accepted Youri as more than a responsibility, that month eight was going to be the definitive moment in Luhan’s pregnancy.

So he was hovering. He was more than hovering. With Luhan exercising the patience of a saint, Sehun was … suffocating him with his worry.

And rationally, Sehun knew that there was nothing bad about the eight month. There was no jinx on it. And Luhan had been exceptionally good at taking care of Youri for the duration of his pregnancy. But he couldn’t shake the dread in him whenever he and Luhan were out on the streets. Or worse, whenever Luhan was alone, the panic was nearly unbearable.

His therapist had needed to walk him through more than a couple anxiety attacks, which were shameful and embarrassing, but something he couldn’t control.

Because no matter where he and Luhan stood, and how they were just trying to get back on their feet with each other, Sehun loved Luhan like someone he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Luhan was everything to Sehun, including the reason he pulled himself out of his bed in the morning. Even if he and Luhan could never get back to where they’d been before, he would always remain Sehun’s love.

He wanted to think that therapy was helping a little.

By the time Luhan had gotten more than a couple days into his eighth month, and there was proof in the universe that nothing had gone wrong yet, Sehun had been attending biweekly meetings with a recommended therapist for a couple of weeks. It was too soon to tell if it was making a difference, but it was certainly an experience.

It was odd trying to tell a stranger all of the fears that made up his anger and anxiety. It was difficult placing trust in someone he didn’t know to keep his secrets. But in another way, it was freeing. He could sit away from the therapist and watch the busy streets of Seoul if he wanted, just let the words flow out of him and not have to worry about being judged. Some days he was filled with nothing but insecurity when he spoke to his therapist, but other days, talking made it all go away.

At the very least he liked his therapist. He liked that she let him go at his own place, only pushed when it was a subject he was avoiding, and she offered gentle anecdotes when the situation called for them. The therapist’s office was starting to feel like a safe zone, and Sehun realized that was something he’d never had before with his emotions.

He wasn’t going to be fixed by the time Youri was born, and he wasn’t even sure which parts of him were broken and which needed mending. But he was determined to be a better person than he had be. He was determined to heal the hurt inside of him that was prohibiting him from being what Luhan needed. He was determined to be the kind of man and father that his family would want from him, if not need.

“Are you sure I can be here?”

At Luhan’s voice, Sehun looked up from his computer, his office at work coming back into focus. He wanted to say that he’d been working so diligently he’d been in the zone, but really he’d been letting his thoughts wander. It happened most days he came to work, wherein he found it hard to focus knowing that Luhan was off being independent … crossing streets and putting himself potentially in unknown danger.

It wasn’t that he expected Luhan to sit around all day and do nothing, though Sehun’s nerves would have appreciated it. He just was having trouble fighting through the irrationality that was his fear of Luhan’s eighth month, and all the thing associated with it.

“You’re fine,” Sehun assured, and Luhan made the most adorable picture ever, curled up at the end of the sofa in Sehun’s office, sketchbook in hand, a soft blanket thrown over his legs.

Sehun remembered the moment, one year earlier, when he’d finally earned himself a big enough office for something like a sofa. He’d intended to use it to sleep at the office whenever the occasion called for it, and no matter how little Jae had liked that, there’d been recognition that sometimes his deadlines were incredibly short and demanding. Never in a million years would he have suspected someone like Luhan to be occupying the space.

“Are you absolutely sure?” Luhan asked, his eyes flickering to the glass door of Sehun’s airy office. More than a few people had stopped to stare at Luhan since Sehun had led him into the room a few hours previous.

Rolling his chair to the side so he could see Luhna better, Sehun said, “Most of the people here are friends of mine. We’ve worked together for years. They knew Jae. I think most of them are just curious about who you are, and why you’re so special to me.”

“I’m special to you?” Luhan teased.

“I’m in love with you,” Sehun corrected. “If you want me to go tell them that, you know I will. I’m not ashamed of loving you.”

Luhan chuckled. “I know you aren’t. And to be fair, I think you telling them that might make them stare harder.”

“True,” Sehun agreed. But if Chanyeol passed by his office one more time, an unreadable expression his face, Sehun was going to say something.

His therapist said he had to learn how to stop holding onto things that hurt him. She said that venting and grieving, expressing his emotions, and confronting the cause, were are valid means of dealing with why things built up inside him until they boiled over. But Sehun didn’t think he was ready to face his friends or their actions yet. He needed to forgive himself for his own actions before he could even start with them.

Luhan’s fingers were smudged with pencil lead as he shifted a little. “I just don’t want to be a distraction to you. You’re taking paternity leave in two weeks, right?”

Behind Sehun the large windows that framed his office wall were battered with rain. They were officially out of the last bit of autumn and hurtling towards winter. The rain had started days ago, and it hadn’t let up yet.

It gave something else for Sehun to worry about. He could just imagine Luhan getting the sniffles from having to go out in the rain without proper protection.

“You’re helping, actually,” Sehun said, his eyes moving back to his computer screen. “I get to know that you’re safe and warm and dry. It makes me work faster, and I’m less distracted.”

“Oh.”

With a smile, Sehun asked, “Give me twenty more minutes. After that we’ll go for that lunch I promised you.”

Luhan fidgeted on the sofa, struggling to move a bit with his stomach, and Sehun thought he looked so beautiful. “If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

Curiously, Luhan asked, “Are you going to have to work from home when you take your leave?”

That was something Sehun had already talked to this boss with. So he told Luhan, “I’ll do some work while you’re in your ninth month, but not the kind of load that I have right now. When Youri is born, that’s it. I won’t do anything for work for that first month until I have to come back to work. I’ll only help you with her.”

With a satisfied hum, Luhan’s attention turned back to whatever he was sketching. Sehun wanted to peek at it, but if Luhan wanted to show him, Sehun figured he would eventually.

More like half an hour later Sehun’s own stomach was grumbling for food and he shut off his computer with finality.

“Lunch?” Luhan asked hopefully.

“Lunch,” Sehun agreed. He rounded his desk to help Luhan up and not so subtly d at his stomach. “Is she hungry too?”

“She’s been trying to destroy my kidney for at least fifteen minutes, so I’d have to go with yes,” Luhan said.

“I’ve got you,” Sehun promised, his hand over Luhan’s stomach. “Let’s get some food.”

They made it to the bank of elevators at the end of the hallway without incident. Sehun kept his fingers firmly wrapped around Luhan’s, and made friendly introductions to coworkers who were curious, but not confrontational.

They’d just stepped into the elevator when Chanyeol slipped in behind them, jamming his finger on the close door button and preventing anyone else form joining them.

“Chanyeol,” Sehun said flatly. There was a look of apprehension on Luhan’s face. It made Sehun feel fierce and protective over Luhan.

“Are you guys going to get lunch?” he asked, bouncing on his feet a little.

Tersely, Sehun nodded. “It’s just after noon.”

He dropped in a severe bow and asked, “Will you both allow me to buy the food for you?”

The elevator was dropping rapidly and Sehun asked angrily, “What makes you think Luhan is going to want you anywhere near him after--”

“Sehun,” Luhan said, stepping deliberately around him. “I can handle this.”

Sehun forced himself to take a deep breath and nod. His therapist was also frequently telling him that he couldn’t always control the circumstances around him. Part of being able to trust people was being able to give them the control that he had so much difficulty relinquishing.

“Chanyeol,” Luhan said, his hands braced at the small of his back in a way that indicated it was giving him trouble again. Sehun was going to offer to rub the kinks out for him later on. “Sehun and I are going to have a private lunch. We have to talk a few things over and it’s important. But if you want to have lunch with me, I’m free tomorrow.”

Chanyeol looked absolutely startled that Luhan had agreed. As much as Sehun was.

“Tomorrow?”

Luhan raised an eyebrow. “I try not to hold grudges. Nothing comes of them. And honestly, whether I want to forgive you or not, is irrelevant. I want you and Sehun to recover your friendship, and I’ll do whatever it takes for that to happen.”

The elevator doors opened before Chanyeol could respond and Luhan was striding out.

“Um…” Chanyeol said, eyes wide in surprise.

“That’s part of why I love him,” Sehun said simply, then took off after Luhan, not wanting him to get too far ahead.

“You don’t have to,” Sehun made sure to say when they were safely in the car. Sehun turned the heat up all the way and meant every word he said. “Don’t think you’re obligated to do anything with the people who harassed you, and certainly not for my benefit.”

Luhan buckled is seatbelt carefully, tucking the strap under his stomach and settling in. He asked, “You don’t want me to forgive someone who made a mistake? Sehun, we’re all human. You and I more than normal, should understand that people often have emotionally uncontrollable reactions to things that upset them. I’m still hurt by Chanyeol and the others, but I will always believe in second chances. You forgave Xiumin when I made him admit to slashing your tires.”

“Maybe you need therapy too,” Sehun proposed, flipping on the windshield wipers as they exited the parking garage and started towards the restaurant. “People aren’t always deserving of forgiveness, and they’re not all as nice as you seem to want to believe.”

“Hey,” Luhan said sharply. “Mister Cynical. My optimism has gotten me this far.” He gave a gentle pat to his stomach. “And considering how well things have gone, I’m not changing anything just for your pessimism. Plus, this is a special case. Because I know you don’t want to admit it right now, but Chanyeol and the others are still your best friends. They’re you’re family. And I’m not your therapist, but I can see what’s going on right now.”

Sehun asked, “And what is that?”

“You still want to punish yourself.” Luhan leveled a serious finger up at him. “And the second I forgive them, you’ll have to believe that I also forgive you. You can punish yourself as long as I’m punishing them by not talking to them or acknowledging them. But that’s got to stop. They are your family the same as Youri and I are. I think it’s time we all moved past this, because that’s what family does. It forgives.”

Luhan was … truly exceptional. Sehun had never imagined meeting someone like him in his life time, let alone being able to love him.

Sehun gripped the steering wheel tightly. “I just think it’s too soon for you to be forgiving. What I did to you … what the others did … it’s too soon.”

Leaning over, Luhan pressed a full kiss to Sehun’s cheek. “Isn’t that for me to decide?”

After a few more seconds of silence, Sehun said, “Make him buy you beef. Really expensive beef.”

“Are you kidding?” Luhan’s face seemed downright devilish. “I’m going to make him spend a month’s wages on that beef.”

Sehun chuckled. “Okay, then.”

They ate lunch that day at an American style restaurant, squeezed into a table at the window with plates full of hamburgers.

“So,” Sehun said, more than a little amazed at the sheer size of the hamburger Luhan was attempting to eat. It was pleasing to see a steady appetite from him, but it was also confounding that Luhan could eat so much on a regular basis without any noticeable changed. From the back it was impossible to even tell he was pregnant. Sehun supposed Luhan must have thought it was a good thing all his baby weight had gone to his stomach and nowhere else. “The twenty-first?”

Luhan chewed on a huge bite of hamburger and nodded. “You nervous?”

“Am I …” Sehun let out a long breath. “I’m terrified!”

He thought he had absolutely every right to be scared as hell. For all intents and purposes, the twenty-first was the day he officially became a father. That was the date set for delivery. That was the day he’d drive Luhan to the hospital more anxious and scared than he’d ever been in his life.

“It’s going to be fine,” Luhan said. “Don’t be nervous.”

“How could I not be?” Sehun demanded, all but losing his appetite. “There’s everything to be worried about on that day.”

Seemingly ignoring him, Luhan said, “It’s actually a perfect date, when I think about it. I’ll be in the hospital for at least a couple of days afterwards, recovering, but then we’ll be able to bring Youri home and it’ll be just in time for Christmas.”

That was something Sehun hadn’t thought about. Last Christmas he’d spent the day with Jae, surrounded by family, buried in a mount of presents with so much to be thankful for.

This Christmas Sehun would still have an incredible amount to be thankful for. But instead of Jae he’d have Luhan and Youri. He certainly didn’t think they’d have a million family members everywhere, and it would likely be a small affair with only the closest of friends. But Youri would be there. His daughter, his newborn, would be there, and he’d get to hold her and be blessed enough to have her. In that regard, it was hard not to feel like this Christmas would be even better than the last, if he dared compare them at all.

“Or are you worried there might be complications?”

Palms sweating, Sehun responded, “You know I am.”

He’d gone to Luhan’s most recent doctor’s appointment with an almost lighthearted mood. Despite Luhan’s recent scare and hospital visit, there hadn’t even been a hint of such a thing happening again, and Luhan had claimed he was feeling better than ever. Sehun had expected to talk about the baby’s due date, and how long Luhan would spend in recovery. He hadn’t expected the talk to turn sour so quickly as the doctor broached the kinds of questions that Sehun couldn’t even beginning answer.

“The chances of complications,” Luhan said knowingly, “are relatively low.”

Voice choppy, Sehun said, “But there could be complications. You could start bleeding, and it might be hard to get it to stop. That’s what the doctor said. There’s a chance of that.”

“A chance,” Luhan agreed. “But Eunji is incredibly skilled, Sehun. She’s honed her craft to a point where I’m confident in her skills as a surgeon.”

But that was it. Luhan’s delivery was major surgery. The doctor was going to cut him open and pull their baby free, with all the risks involved in such a thing. The possible things that could go wrong were astronomically high, and some of the medication Luhan had been on lately had made his blood thin. It was harder for his blood to clot. If there was any kind of hemorrhaging …

“I told Chanyeol we were going to talk about some important things,” Luhan said, “and I meant it. You know what we have to talk about.”

Sehun took a shuddering breath. “I don’t think I can … make that kind of choice.”

“We have to decide now.” Luhan reached a hand out across the table. “I know it isn’t easy.”

Sehun caught his fingers tightly. “You want me to pick between you and Youri.”

“No,” Luhan corrected, “I want us to make the right choice in the face of a worst possible scenario. I fully believe we will never encounter having to make this choice, but if it does happen, I want us to be prepared.”

It was as if the world around him was fading out and all Sehun could see was Luhan, and impossible choice he represented.

Dryly, Sehun posed, “If you start bleeding, or if there’s a major problem during the delivery and we have to make a choice, you want to try and save the baby first, don’t you?”

With clear hesitation on his face, Luhan asked, “When Jae’s accident happened, which did the doctor try to safe first?”

It had been Jae. The doctors, when they’d given their one and only status update, had said that they were going to try and save Jae first. They thought it was too risky to try and save Seoyoung initally. They’d said Jae was the safer choice, and Sehun had been too dazed and too lost to challenge them.

But he’d known afterwards, when there’d been time to think, that Jae would have hated the choice. Jae would have hated Sehun for not fighting the choice. Their baby had always been Jae’s priority, and he would have gladly given his life for her. Just as Luhan would give his for Youri.

Maybe, and it was always at the back of Sehun’s mind, if they doctors had tried to save Seoyoung first, she might have lived. Jae likely would have died regardless, but Seoyoung might have lived.

“Jae,” Sehun said finally. “And it wasn’t the choice Jae would have wanted.”

Luhan gave a somber nod. “If it comes down to Youri and I, I trust you to make the right call. I trust you to tell the doctor that she should be the priority.”

“I can’t lose you,” Sehun said, gripping Luhan’s hand almost painfully.

“You can’t lose Youri.”

Sehun wondered if that was true. Would losing Luhan be easier than Youri? If it came down to one or the other, would he be able to survive that kind of choice?

Trying to be as rational as possible, Sehun said, “If the worst happened, and the doctor saved you, we could always … there’d be the chance for us to try again in the future.”

It was possible he could survive the loss of another child, as long as he had Luhan at his side.

Luhan posed, “Ask yourself honestly, if we lost Youri, would you want to try again?”

“No,” Sehun said honestly.

“I’m not saying save Youri first if you have to, to be honorable.” Luhan eyes were so intense Sehun couldn’t help believe every word he said. “I’m saying save Youri first if you have to because she’s my daughter and I love her more than anyone else in the world. I don’t say this lightly, Sehun, but I won’t live in a world without her.”

“I can’t talk about this anymore,” Sehun said, feeling as if he might burst into tears at any moment. “I won’t.”

“You don’t have to,” Luhan said kindly. “As long as you promise me that if there are complications, and if a choice has to be made, you’ll save Youri.”

With a forced laugh, Sehun said, “Maybe you don’t realize how important you are to me. Maybe you don’t realize how much I love you and how I can’t get lucky again. Finding you after Jae, loving you after him, that was a million to one shot. It won’t happen again, and I don’t want it to. If you were gone, there’d be nothing left for me.”

“No?” Luhan ambled himself up and around the table to sit next to Sehun. “You’d have Youri,” he said pointedly, pressing Sehun’s hand against his stomach. “You’d have plenty to go on for. And for her, you would.”

Sehun bowed his head, feeling his daughter shift under Luhan’s skin. “I’m not as confident in myself, as you seem to be in me.”

“I’m more than confident,” Luhan said, tilting his head in for a kiss.

“All right,” Sehun said finally, but it felt like a lie he was telling himself, or a truth too terrible to keep. “If I have to, I’ll do what you want.”

Voice tender, Luhan said, “Hey. Sehun. I know this is a necessary evil to talk about, but I have no intention of forcing you to put this choice into practical use. Look, we’re going to be cautious about the delivery, but also hopeful. I don’t know about you, but I plan to go in there, not have any problems, deliver a beautiful, healthy baby girl, and be able to go home in a couple of days. How does that sound to you?”

Sehun pushed down slightly on Luhan’s stomach, against the pressure of their daughter kicking at him. “I know you’ll do your best. For her, and for us.”

But how much of what happened on the twenty-first would even be up to Luhan? Luhan was an absolute fighter. He was strong and Sehun believed that he would give everything he had into having a safe delivery.

There just was no guarantee.

Luhan made no move to switch back to his previous seat, but he did pull his plate across the table so it was in front of him again. “You know,” he said, wrestling up the rest of his huge burger, “when the delivery goes perfectly fine, I’m going to have a rough recovery. I’ll have to stay in the hospital for at least a couple of days, and we’ll have nurses to help us with Youri then. But afterwards? I might not even be able to lift her without pulling my stitches. I’ll need you.”

Sehun said quickly, “You know I’ll be there for you however you want.”

“Then,” Luhan decided, “you should stay with us for the first couple of weeks.”

“Are you sure?” Sehun asked. They had most certainly just restarted their relationship, and even their friendship was a bit fragile. Sehun was worried that being in such close proximity for such a long time would do anything but endear him to Luhan.

“I’ll need you, and so will Youri,” Luhan said confidently. “Stay with us, help me take care of her, and then I’ll feel better. I think you will, too.”

Finally Sehun reached back for his sandwich. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”

“You get to want things too,” Luhan pointed out. “But yes, this is what I want.”

With the first bit of happiness he’d felt in a while, Sehun said, “Actually, you might need me?”

“Hm?” Luhan’s mouth was full of hamburger again and Sehun wondered if he’d want a second one.

Sehun patted Luhan’s stomach fondly. “We already know so much about Youri. We know our girl is active and maybe even nocturnal. She doesn’t like being ignored, not even for a little bit, and neither one of us is likely going to have any resistance to her cuteness for decades to come.”

Luhan burst out laughing, “God help us when she starts crawling.”

Sehun paled. “Or walking. Luhan, what happens when she starts walking? She’ll get into everything and what if there are stairs and she--”

“We,” Luhan said calmingly, “will never let her out of our sight. They have this term for overprotective parents. It’s called helicopter parenting. I think that’ll be us in a nutshell, just hovering over Youri, circling her, driving her crazy.”

“Isn’t that how we know we’re doing our job? When she complains about how we’re smothering her?”

Luhan leaned against Sehun, all warmth and softness now. “We’re going to be just fine as parents, Sehun. Have a little faith.”

Faith was something Sehun hadn’t had in a long time.

Neither losing Jae nor finding Luhan had made a believer out of him, and he didn’t think anything else would either.

But maybe it wouldn’t hurt to pray a little. Just in case.

“I love you,” Suhun said suddenly, startling Luhan with his intensity. “I love you so much, Luhan.”

With some confusion on his face, Luhan returned, “I love you too. Sehun, I promise, everything is going to work out. We didn’t fight this hard to get here, to lose it all in the end. We’re going to mend. It’s slow going, but we’re going to get there.”

Sehun wanted to believe him so badly.

Only Jae had said something far too similar. Jae had said, days before his death, “Don’t worry so much, Sehun. We worked hard to get here, we deserve our happy ending.”

The words were too similar and too heart wrenching.

Forcing himself to smile, Sehun mentioned, “You know you’re not actually supposed to eat for two? The baby doesn’t need a full adult sized serving.” He gave Luhan a pointed look when long, slender fingers curled up onto the edge of Sehun’s plate, Luhan’s own already empty.

Sehun gave a short and surprised cry as Luhan’s elbow landed against his ribs. “I’m carrying your daughter and you want to make jokes like that.”

“I want,” Sehun clarified, pressing a kiss to the side of Luhan’s head, “to remind you that having gestational diabetes means carb counting, and that bread has a lot of crabs. That’s all.”

With the smallest of pouts, Luhan said, “I’m still hungry. I thought the incessant need to eat all the time was supposed to drop off at the end.”

Sehun resisted the urge to rub at Luhan’s stomach again. Six weeks. In six weeks he was going to have his daughter in his arms. They only had to make it six weeks.

“If you’re still hungry,” Sehun decided, pushing back as he stood, “we’ll go get an after lunch treat. Frozen yoghurt?”

It was more than a little funny how fast Luhan fought to get to his feet. “Watermelon flavored.”

“You’ve got it.” Sehun reached for his wallet and tried to enjoy the time he had left with Luhan before he had to go back to work.

Two days later and the worry was still eating away at him. There was something that felt like unresolved tension in his body, and it felt more and more clear what he had to do.

He’d promised Luhan some time ago that eventually he’d take Luhan to see Jae, but this seemed like something he had to do for himself. And he hoped he’d heal a bit along the way.

Almost halfway through November the weather was terrible. While Sehun was placated with the notion that Luhan was tucked safely away with his friends in a warm coffee shop, Sehun battled the wind and the rain and the threat of snow, to make the long drive to the coastline. He drove as carefully as he could, trying not to end up a wreck on the side of the road, and made an entire day of it.

Sehun had said to Luhan, when he’d asked weeks earlier, that Jae was buried near his family home. The truth was it was a more secluded area than he’d implied, and there were no roads to the exact spot. He’d have to walk, and get muddy. It seemed a small price to pay.

Bundled up in his winter coat, flowers tucked to his chest, and an umbrella held over his head, Sehun departed his car in the early afternoon and started up a nearby hill. His eyes watched keenly for the tree he knew Jae was buried under, though he knew it was too soon to see it.

There was some relief in him when he finally spotted the tree, then the headstone. But mostly it was apprehension.

“Jae,” he breathed out when he was in front of the headstone. He’d wanted Jae to be cremated. He’d said so only once, and let the matter drop when Jae’s parents had insisted he be buried at his favorite spot in the world, but Sehun had wanted, at the time, to be able to keep even the smallest part of Jae. Sehun had wanted an urn to sit in his living room, so he could look at it whenever he wanted.

With freezing, stiff fingers, Sehun brushed off some of the debris that had caught on the headstone from the tree, forced there by the wind. He wiped the stone clean and offered it the smallest of smiles before kneeling down to place his carefully selected flowers into the pot next to the headstone.

“Hi.”

He could barely feel the stone as he touched it, but he let his fingers trail over the symbols of Jae’s name and the message underneath. “I’m sorry I’ve been away so long.”

His knees sinking into the muddle soil underneath him, Sehun bowed his head. “I miss you.”

Being in love with Luhan did not take away from the loneliness he felt from Jae’s absence. Jae was a love Sehun had known for many, many years. Jae, though not without his flaws, had been perfect to Sehun in every single way, and the kind of man Sehun had wanted to have grandkids with some day. Jae had made Sehun laugh all the time, and feel warm and safe and comforted with a mere look. Jae, in a lot of ways, had always felt like Sehun’s soul mate.

He could picture Jae’s face so perfectly, youthful and bright.

“I know, I know,” Sehun chuckled. “I’m lazy and you have every right to yell at me for taking so long to come out here. I just … I hope you understand, I wasn’t ready.”

It wasn’t as if Luhan had made him ready, but before, coming to see where his husband was buried felt like a death sentence for Sehun as well. He was afraid he’d kneel in front of Jae’s headstone and never be able to get up, or cry himself to death. He couldn’t bear to face the end of the best thing in his life, and the only thing, for a time, that had been worth living for.

“I’m not a believer,” Sehun said frankly. Next he reached his fingers out for Seoyoung’s name. “I know you did, and who knows which of us ended up being right. Maybe god is up there and maybe he isn’t. But I kind of hope he is now, and I’ve never felt that way before. Because I want you to still exist somehow. I want to imagine that you’re up in heaven with Seoyoung and you’re looking down on me and watching me. Jae, I can’t stand thinking that you’re just gone forever, rotting away in the ground.”

The wind was whipping at his umbrella so badly that Sehun closed it, afraid that it would snap back, or break. He tucked the collapsed umbrella under his arm and tipped his head back towards the clouds, letting the rain splatter against his skin.

“I met someone. If you’re up there in heaven, you know I met Luhan. You know I love him. You know we’re having a daughter, too. We’re naming her Youri. Or, well that’s her Korean name. Luhan is Chinese, so it’s important to him that she has a Chinese name as well. Her Chinese name is going to be Daiyu, and I think that’s so pretty.”

Sehun placed his hands firmly on the muddy ground and curled forward to bow to the headstone. “I love him so much, Jae. I know you’re gone and I can’t have you back, and I know moving on is what happens in life. So I want you to know that I’m not saying I’m in love with Luhan lightly. I want to spend the rest of my life with him, and if he wants, eventually have a bigger family. I want to get to see him every day, and hold him, and I want to marry him. I want that, Jae. But I’m so scared something is going to happen to him like it happened to you.”

He had long since accepted the fact that Jae would have wanted him to move on. He’d have wanted Sehun to find happiness with Luhan, because that was the kind of person Jae was. So Sehun could imagine him now, arms crossed and looking displeased at Sehun’s blind grasping for convenient faith.

“Just please,” Sehun said, “please watch out for Luhan. If you’re up there, and you can do anything, please watch over him. Protect him if you can, and protect Youri. If anything happens to them, I won’t do this again. I can’t.”

Jae had always said that faith meant believing in both the good time and the bad.

So naturally Sehun felt compelled to add, “I know this isn’t how it’s supposed to work. I know if I were god, I’d be pretty pissed off some guy was asking for a favor when he spent almost all his life not believing in anything. But Jae, if you can do anything, please do it. Please.”

It was a comforting thought to imagine Jae as a guardian angel of sorts.

“But if you can’t,” he found himself saying, his hands in his lap, awkwardly, shaking with coldness. “If you can’t, I understand. Hell, for all I know this is completely pointless and there’s nothing after death. I still don’t think there is. But if there’s even a chance I’m wrong, and you can do anything, Jae, protect Luhan.”

The rain was beating down so hard on the flowers Sehun had brought that the petals were being battered in an abused way. The sight made Sehun want to lean forward and shield the flowers, or at least what they represented.

“If you’re up there,” Sehun said, voice puffing out white from the temperature, “you’re taking care of our girl, right? How is she? I’m really jealous, Jae. I would have given anything to hold her before she died. I was always envious of you, getting to feel her all the time, getting to have that connection with her. It made losing her all that more difficult in the end, because I never got to touch her once.”

For all the pain and loss that had come with loving Jae, never once had Sehun regretted anything with him. It was only things with Seoyoung that Sehun regretted, and none of them were anyone’s fault.

Eventually the chill seeped so deeply into Sehun’s bones that he was in considerable pain. His clothing was soaked through and there was so much water on his face that he could barely see straight.

Leaning forward he pressed his fingers to his lips, and then his fingers to the grave marker. “I love you,” he said, teeth chattering together. “I will always love you and I will never forget you. But I want to have a future with Luhan. Youri will know who Seoyoung is, I promise you. And I’ll bring Luhan to meet you as soon as he has the baby and is recovered.”

He stood as fast as he could, which was agonizingly slow, reminding him of how long he’d been kneeling in the cold. His legs shook, numb and almost unfeeling, and Sehun steadied himself on the grave marker.

“I’ve got to go now.”

Sehun lingered for a just a moment later, then turned reluctantly and hobbled his way back to his car a distance away.

He might have sat in his car for another twenty minutes, the heater running on full blast, feeling uncomfortable in his wet clothing. And then he might definitely have sobbed.

He took his time driving back to Seoul, contemplating if he’d wasted his time or not. He was not a believer. He’d gone to church with Jae to satisfy someone he loved. But that was it. Sehun’s gut told him that death was the end, and that rationally, there was no such thing as god or heaven or anything afterwards. It was more than likely he’d just spent and wasted time kneeling in front of a marker that meant nothing.

But talking to Jae, and just being near all that remained of him, had made him feel better. Even if there was no guardian angel lurking around to protect Luhan and Youri, Sehun’s anxiety was settled a bit.

And if that was the case, did it really matter at all if god existed?

Sehun wasn’t ready to make any definitive declarations just yet. He only knew that he felt as if Jae cold rest in his mind now, and maybe even that Luhan felt a little safer. And for Sehun, that meant the trip wasn’t wasted at all. And neither were the prayers.